


Pas De Deux

by PoliticalPadmé (magnetgirl)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anidala Week, Anthropomorphized Droids, Clones as Kids, F/M, I Don't Even Know, ObiTine Week, PadMay, Star Wars Ballet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:38:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/PoliticalPadm%C3%A9
Summary: "Master Yoda is a troll without an ounce of artistic integrity in his entire body."A Jedi Dance Academy AU





	1. First Position

**Author's Note:**

> I imagined Yoda as an implacable dance master telling tiny crying ballerinas "there is no try" and this is what happened.

“This is nonsense and I don’t have to do it.” He stormed off down the corridor.

“Anakin--” Obi-Wan spoke quietly as he followed his wayward student, an attempt to defuse the situation before the entire academy heard them.

“No! Master Yoda is a troll without an ounce of artistic integrity in his entire body.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up. “Anakin!”

“Or creativity.”

“Anakin--” Obi-Wan tried a third time, his tone now bordering on pleading.

Anakin turned to address his teacher with barely contained fury. “Remedial drills?! My technique is flawed?! How dare he question my--”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan interrupted, desperate. “Master Yoda has been leading this company since its inception. You might consider that in all those years it’s possible he knows what he’s--”

“And you might consider that he’s old and tired and it’s time for something different,” Anakin countered. Obi-Wan let his shoulders relax, at least he’d stopped shouting. “I was accepted--”

Obi-Wan raised a hand. “You were accepted because you have more raw talent than any dancer any of us have ever seen.”

“Thank you!” Anakin crossed his arms with a smug smile.

“But you lack discipline.” Anakin’s eyes narrowed. “You started far later than is standard for dancers to reach the level you want to. Focusing on the basics is not a punishment, it is simply a way to refine--”

“My technique,” Anakin sighed. “Fine.” He turned on his heel and walked off, still agitated, but no longer adamant, and Obi-Wan let him go.

Anakin glared at the ground as he turned the corner -- of course Obi-Wan brought up his late start again! -- and smashed directly into her.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” The girl jumped back as she said it.

“Watch where you’re going,” Anakin answered dismissively.

She blinked. “You bumped into me.”

 _Whatever_. Anakin mumbled a vague apology under his breath and pushed past.

“You don’t have to be rude,” the girl called after before shrugging and finding a quiet spot to settle and practice.

Anakin growled. He didn’t recognize the voice which suggested he was being lectured by some no one from the junior corps, or maybe even a student from one of the lower classes, and frankly, he was tired of being lectured today! He turned to explain exactly who he was and why she should respect it --

But it caught in his throat at the sight of her. 

The girl was seated against the wall silently moving her arms through the positions. She was covered in various warm-ups, her hair pulled back into a tight bun -- like every girl at the academy, but she didn’t look like any of them. Eyes turned down, lips just barely parted, the low light of the corridor hitting her from above, covering her in a pale glow.... She looked like an angel, like the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

And he’d been an ass, he groaned silently.

She looked up. Oops. Maybe not entirely silent then.

“Uh. Hi,” he said and closed the space between them quickly.

“Hi…” she answered with some hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, and ran a hand through his hair. “I was -- I had a bad morning and -- but you’re right, I don’t have to be rude and I totally was and I’m really sorry.” He pursed his lips. “You don’t deserve it.”

The girl took a breath, stood, and extended a hand. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed as he shook her hand. “I’m Anakin.”

“Padmé. I just arrived from Naboo.” She’d been the top of her class there, but the Jedi Dance Academy was much larger and more prestigious -- and the Coruscant Company that ran it was world renowned.

“Padmé,” Anakin repeated. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. “Are you… do you want to get some coffee?”

She blinked. What a funny boy. But he had apologized, and maybe he needed a friend as much as she did. “Will you tell me about your bad morning?”

“...If you...want me to,” he answered, a bit shy.

Padmé nodded, and smiled as he offered her an arm.

\---

“Soooo… They want me to TA the morning youngling class,” Anakin finished and sipped his coffee.

“That sounds like fun,” Padmé offered. “Teaching new dancers?”

“I’m not really teaching,” argued Anakin. “I’m being stuck in a class with ten year olds. Because my basics aren’t good enough.” He looked away, embarrassed.

“Maybe.” Padmé raised a mug to her lips. “But they’re calling you a teacher. You can sulk about it or make it work for you.”

Anakin was startled into laughing. She was so matter of fact. “If Obi-Wan told me that I’d probably throw this coffee in his face,” he admitted.

“Well, that would be wrong,” Padmé admonished. “But… I guess all mentors have a way of seeing more of our faults than we would like. It's the only way we grow.”

Anakin shrugged. “Maybe. Anyway, thanks for listening.”

“Thanks for sharing.” Their eyes met. Padmé felt her cheeks grow warm and glanced away. “What was it Yoda said about your technique?”

“I’m ‘reckless’,” Anakin scowled. “‘All passion and no precision’.”

Padmé pulled her lips in over her teeth. “At my old school, they said I’m too controlled. That I dance with my head, but not my heart.”

Anakin reached a hand across the table to lace his fingers through hers. “Maybe we can help each other.”

Padmé raised her eyes to his. And smiled.


	2. Second Position

 

Step. Step. Half-step, pivot, step-step-step. Step. Step. Half-step, pivot, step-step-step. The boys of Master Plo’s intermediate youngling class stepped in a line like half-size soldiers. A small part of Anakin wanted to drop a bounce ball into their midst, or a puppy, or something else similarly disruptive, just to see what would happen. But the larger part of Anakin actually enjoyed working with the kids.

When he’d first arrived at the class -- just like when he’d first arrived at the Academy -- they’d seemed like clones: a bunch of indiscriminately athletic nine to eleven year old boys dressed near-identically in black, white, and grey, with short or shorter hair, and serious expressions. But -- this time -- it took very little time for them to become individuals, and now, even in their precision, he picked up their distinct personalities.

The music and the boys stopped at the same time and all was silent and still for about twenty seconds before Master Plo clapped twice. “Very good, all.” The boys relaxed, quite a few breaking into smiles. “I see marked improvement.” With this Koon gave a slight nod toward Anakin who had to fight to keep his face impassive at the praise. “Dismissed.”

The room burst into activity and noise as the kids scattered and chattered, having morphed into something much more average, but to Anakin’s eyes, much more alive.

“Master Skywalker?”

“Hey, Cody.” The most obsessively precise of the whole bunch, Anakin had initially dismissed him as a ballet automaton. But Cody had surprised him by asking for help connecting his (admittedly perfect) steps to the music that, as he saw it, seemed to flow through Anakin effortlessly.  “Great job.”

“Really? I … I felt it today.” The boy’s expression was caught somewhere between elation and embarrassment that he cared at all. A trap Anakin understood well.

“I could tell,” he answered with a smile. Cody beamed and ran off to join his friends.

“You’re a natural.”

Anakin grinned at the voice. Part of him was worried he’d lost all sense of perspective when it came to Padmé. But the larger part of him honestly didn’t care.

“Mm, it’s my one saving grace.” He step-step-half-step-pivot-step-step-step-ed over to her side. With flair.

“No,” she shook her head, then blushed when he played at balking, “I mean, yes, you’re a -- very -- talented dancer. But I was saying, trying to say, you’re so good with the kids.”

Anakin shrugged. “Obi-Wan would say ‘cause I’m on their level.” He leaned against the door frame to watch her. Padmé’s hair was pulled back in the traditional bun but one lock was loose.

“Why do you always do that?”

He blinked, moved his focus from wayward hair to probing eyes. “What?”

“Deflect praise, turn it into an accusation…” She cocked her head. The lock of hair slipped further free. “Has Obi-Wan ever _actually_ said anything like that?”

“No, but….”  Her eyes were kind, but piercing, holding him to uncomfortable truth. “Okay, okay, I get it.” A moment of quiet vulnerability passed. He looked away, and then back, eyes twinkling. “Thank you.” He reached up to tug the stray hair fully free.

Padmé blushed and ducked her head to tuck the hair back into the bun. Anakin chuckled. It might be harder than he thought to get her to let go.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He grinned and pulled the hair loose again. Her blush deepened as she swatted his hand and tried to hide that the laughter hurt, as innocuous as it was. Anakin stayed her hands and gently tucked the stray hair back into place. Padmé looked up to meet his eyes. “Meet me after class? I want to show you something.” She nodded, smiling.

“Anakin.”

The couple jumped apart, startled. “Excuse me, Padmé,” Obi-Wan gave the girl a small bow. Flustered, she responded in kind and with a wave to both ran off to her next class. The two men watched until she’d disappeared around a corner.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin addressed his mentor as if he’d just arrived.

“Right.” Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “How is it working with Master Plo?”

Anakin grew quiet. “...Don’t tell anyone, but I’m learning a lot. And… I enjoy it.” Obi-Wan beamed. It didn’t surprise him that Anakin was suited to mentoring, but it did surprise him Anakin recognized, and admitted, as much. “Padmé says I’m a natural with kids,” Anakin added, as casually as he could.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Anakin waited for the punchline. “Empathy can’t be taught.”

Anakin’s eyes went wide. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Anakin shook his head. He didn’t realize how much fear of judgement he’d been carrying until it was relieved. “Just something else Padmé said.”

Obi-Wan pursed his lips. The academy didn’t -- couldn’t, Anakin would say -- forbid romantic entanglements between the students but they were... discouraged. And Anakin in particular was easily distracted. He’d hate for him to lose momentum.

“Anakin… the showcase is only three months away…”

“I know,” Anakin started and then became (easily) distracted by the thought. “Assignments are due soon?”

“Mmm,” Obi-Wan nodded. “Tomorrow.”

“Do you have any say in it?”

“The council gives recommendations, but Master Yoda has final say.” Anakin’s hopes fell away. Yoda had it out for him. If he asked Obi-Wan to suggest he be paired with Padmé the ballet master would probably go out of his way to deny it. “I don’t want to…” Obi-Wan continued, but not knowing quite how to suggest the boy wait a few months before pursuing a -- relationship, with the girl. “It’s not my place to ... “ Well, this was incredibly awkward. “It’s just that this close to your goal I worry about distract -- Anakin, where are you going?”

He’d step-step-pivoted, somewhat dramatically in true Skywalker fashion, and was stomping away down the hall.

“I don’t want to hear the end of that sentence,” he called back, affable, if, well… Obi-Wan sighed. He had a bad feeling about this.

 

* * *

 

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” Padmé looked at the motorbike with some trepidation. “It’s safe,” Anakin assured, handing her a helmet. “I promise.” She bit her lip, but took the helmet and fastened it around her head, like his. He mounted the bike first, nodded for her get on and, when she proved tentative to put her arms around his waist, he pulled them into place and locked her hands together. “Hold on,” he told her with a wink and zoomed away.

Padmé wasn’t sure exactly how long they rode before they pulled into an empty parking lot by a broken pier. It could have been an hour, it might have been a day. It was probably twenty minutes, but when they arrived, things felt different already. Away from the school, the glare of the lights and the stress of performing, maybe she could breathe. She’s not always so tightly wound but all this time away from home, working towards something so delicate, she’s worried to misstep. What happens then?

Anakin helped her off the bike and they walked side by side to the rail by the sand. She wouldn’t call it a beach, more like a collection of decay. Everything in sight was crumbled and fading. 

“I grew up here,” Anakin explained in a soft voice.

Padme’s eyes grew wide. “You were homeless?” There was no evidence of housing, unless the boards standing haphazard in the sand count.

“Yeah.” He was watching the water, lost in the past. “My mom worked hard but… She didn’t have any schooling and she was sick a lot.” He didn’t know what brought them to Mos Espa when he was a baby, just that it was terrible enough she had to flee, and left her scarred in more ways than one. “She always made sure I had something to eat.” He left unsaid that meant she didn’t eat herself. “And she taught me to dance. Right here.”

He didn’t know where she learned, either. She couldn’t read but she knew dance. And not just the steps, the positions, the mechanics. Shmi could tell a story with her body. The bike rail was their barre, the tide was their orchestra, the moon was their spotlight.

“She put me in school, too, but I hated it so I never went.” He didn’t have the right clothes and the first week was nothing but forms full of questions he had no answers to. Home address. Phone number. Emergency contact. Father’s name. “Anyway, when I was nine I got arrested for street racing.” Padmé’s mouth dropped open. “With stolen cars.”

“You stole a car when you were _nine_?!”

Anakin flashed her a smile that indicated he wasn’t exactly ashamed of it. “I was supposed to go to juvie but this do gooder social worker got me into Jedi instead.”

In Anakin’s memory Qui-Gon was a giant. A giant hippy with long hair and a casually sardonic smile and really weird ideas like ballet school instead of jail. But it was a weird idea that worked.

Padmé clasped his hand in hers. “I’m glad,” she said, softly, simply, her eyes on his, brimming with a tangle of emotions. Anakin touched a finger to her back, a question in his eyes, an answer on her lips. He drew her close.

The sun shone down on their kiss and the tide played a symphony.


	3. Third Position

Anakin couldn't remember ever being happier. As a kid he'd lived day to day, with his mom carving out the best possible life she could, neither ever knowing what might happen. It was simultaneously a boring routine and a constant state of anxiety. 

At the Academy he was always fed, never cold, had his own space and a sense of purpose. A goal, with specific steps, and plenty of victories, if not really validation, along the way. It was even more of a boring routine, and he lost some freedom, but he was taken care of, and he was grateful if not always content. 

But also lonely. He'd struggled to make friends at the Academy. His talent made him a target, his background made him shy. He didn't really have any peers. Most of the instructors found him exhausting. He and Obi-Wan were close but he was too old to be an equal and too young to be a father figure. 

But, now... Soon Anakin would be a full member of the company. He'd gained respect teaching the younglings under Master Plo. Things were even becoming less awkward with Obi-Wan as Anakin grew up -- and as Padmé persisted in holding him accountable for his feelings. Along with everything else, which was everything, she was a soothing influence. Now that he'd found her, Anakin couldn't imagine any part of his life without her. Their dancing a pas de deux in the end of the year showcase -- which doubled as a final audition to the Coruscant Ballet, and every other company in its sphere -- would be the perfect finale to both his time at the Academy and the whirlwind first act of their life together.  

Which is why being assigned to dance with someone else felt like a punch to the gut. 

"A first year?!?!"  Anakin shook his fist, enclosed around the paper describing his assignment for the Academy Showcase, at his mentor with open hostility.  

"Now, Anakin-"

"I'm paired with  _ a first year _ ?! What are they playing at?" He spun around and dropped to the floor in a huff. Anger, disappointment, and shame flitted across his face in equal measure. 

Obi-Wan sighed. Dealing with Anakin's moods was a full time occupation. "Anakin, did you --"

 "I don't understand," his student interrupted, again. "I thought -- Master Plo --"  The past few weeks had been going so well. He'd thought he'd finally gained some favor. As a person, not just a talent. 

Obi-Wan's eyes softened. "Master Plo _requested_ you."

"Wha-- what do you mean?" 

His master plucked the paper from Anakin's hands, smoothed the crumples, and held it back out. "Did you happen to notice the choreographer?" 

"What-- no--" _Oh_ , he thought. "Look, Master Plo is a great instructor but that doesn't--" He stopped at Obi-Wan's expression, poised somewhere between exasperation and amusement. Anakin rolled his eyes.  _ Fine _ . He read the card again.

 

     Dancers: Anakin Skywalker (4) and Ahsoka Tano (1)  
     Music: TBD  
     Choreography: Anakin Skywalker (4)

 

He blinked.  _ No way. _ Read it again. 

 

     Choreography: Anakin Skywalker (4)

 

Anakin looked up to meet Obi-Wan's eyes, now twinkling with affection and ...yes, pride. 

"Really?"

"“Really," his mentor confirmed. "And Miss Tano is Plo Koon's most promising student."

Anakin shook his head. "I don't know her…"

"She is young, yes, but she has incredible potential. Master Plo and I believe you will be a formidable pair."

Anakin read the card a third time. _Music: TBD_. "And I -- we can do anything I like?"

"Well, within reaso….." Obi-Wan paused, suddenly concerned. "What exactly are you imagining?" 

Anakin’s only response was a wolfish grin.

 

* * *

 

"I wish it would be with you."

Padmé smiled over her coffee mug. "I'm excited for you." 

He flashed her an echoing smile, but his eyes remained cloudy. She brushed her fingers across his hand. 

"It's just one performance, Ani." 

He shook his head. "It's the showcase. My whole career depends on this." What did he have to fall back on, boosting cars? Before Padmé it didn't seem so important, now he knew he had to be worthy of her. 

Padmé pursed her lips. Hers, too, and her partners, and every other senior dancer in the show. But she understood why the stakes felt so high to him in particular. Although she trusted he'd land on his feet no matter what, Obi-Wan would see to it if nothing else, she empathized that it might be difficult to see that from his perspective. And as selfish as Anakin could be sometimes, he was also one of the most generous dancers she'd ever met. 

"And you'll be wonderful," she said with conviction.

He locked his fingers with hers. "With you I…" He met her eyes. "I feel like I can do anything."

"I'll be in the wings." 

"Promise?"

She leaned across the table to answer with a kiss. 

 

* * *

 

The room was dark and Anakin assumed he'd arrived first, but when he flicked on the light he found his partner going through exercises at the barre. She glanced at the ceiling and turned to meet his gaze. 

"Hi…."

Ahsoka waved as she spun her body around and bounded over to him. She was small, smaller than Padmé, and seemingly all legs, but even in her rush she moved with grace and a power that belied her stature. Her hair was bright orange and white, neither a color found in nature, and pulled into two long french braids that framed her brown face and wide blue eyes, lit up with excitement.  

"Master Skywalker!"

Anakin blinked. Her enthusiasm was palpable. "Yes," he answered, though it wasn't a question. 

Ahsoka tilted her head. "What?"

"Nothing. I. Nothing."

She nodded, knowingly. "I'm not what you expected."

Anakin shook his head. "I didn't expect anything."

Ahsoka scrunched her nose. “I think I'm insulted.”

“No!” Anakin said, flustered. "I mean. I." He frowned. "I don't know what I mean but...." 

"But don't be insulted," she suggested.

"Right."

She saluted and extended a hand. "I'm Ahsoka." 

"I know. I mean." He shook his head as if to clear it. "Sorry." He clasped her hand in his, and shook. "Right. I'm Anakin." 

"Charmed." She tilted her head again as they dropped hands. "I was expecting you to be more arrogant."

Anakin's mouth dropped open. "I….." Ahsoka's eyes twinkled. "Think I'm insulted."

The room lit up with matching grins.

"So, what are we dancing?"

“Depends." Ahsoka raised an eyebrow in query. Anakin leaned close. "How's your skateboarding?"


	4. Fourth Position

"This is. . ."

Obi-wan stared, open-mouthed, at the tableau before him. He’d been asked to check on Anakin's progress -- although the young choreographer had been diligently submitting reports to the council every three days, as per protocol, he'd also conscripted the class of intermediate boys he'd been assisting and dragged his whole crew, including one of the set designers, to an off-campus location for practice. The council had concerns, so they sent Obi-Wan. 

"Amazing?" suggested Anakin, beaming with pride. 

"Exciting!" added Ahsoka beside him. 

Obi-Wan frowned. Six boys, dressed in unitards, skate pads, and helmets, zipped back and forth across the skatepark they were using as a performance space. When pairs met in the center they danced a routine on and around the board as the other four crossed in front and behind. The steps were not overly complicated -- but performed in conjunction with skateboarding it certainly was exciting. And Obi-Wan was, in fact, amazed. But it was also,

"Insane," offered Artoo, the techie tasked with translating Anakin's vision to the JEDI stage. She sat at their feet, scribbling furiously on a tablet. Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. "But in  _ all _ the best ways!" Anakin grinned and bent down to give her a high five. 

Obi-Wan rubbed his temples. How would he explain any of this to the council?

The boys came to a halt at the edge of the "stage" and the music was switched off. Anakin, Ahsoka, and Artoo applauded loudly, and Obi-Wan joined in after a pointed look from his former student. "Great job, boys. Now, replace your boards in position one and grab your warm ups -- meet at the benches in ten minutes, I want to go over notes." Anakin smiled as the kids ran off to follow his orders, chattering excitedly. He turned to Ahsoka. "After notes, I'll send them back and we'll use the afternoon for our part. Do you want to hang here or practice in the studio?"

"Whatever you want, Skyguy, I'm easy."

He nodded. "As long as Artoo has what she needs, I say we head back."

"Aight." She held a hand out to the set designer. "Let's go get what you need." The two girls walked off to measure ramps. 

"Thanks, Snips." Anakin turned to his mentor and had to swallow a laugh at his incredulous expression. "What?"

"Do you really expect to …" He gestured wildly toward the skatepark. "... at the Showcase?!"

"Why not? The boys are getting really good at it."

Flustered, Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth a few times, and Anakin had to swallow another laugh. He looked like a fish. 

"Are you certain it’s safe?"

Anakin narrowed his eyes. "You think I would my students in danger? They're all wearing safety gear, it's gonna be sewn into their costumes. And I have Threepio on site." He pointed to the school's assistant stage manager, seated primly on the edge of a bench, and looking somewhat miserable -- everyone knew he hated the outdoors. "Plus Artoo's a genius."

"I've no doubt she is -- you are all -- very talented. And innovative." He stroked his chin, thoughtfully. "I just worry. Entertainment is not the only purpose of the showcase." Anakin frowned. "Are you certain you want to be  _ quite so _ innovative when your placement depends on it?"

Anakin looked away, eyes full of hurt. "If the company doesn't want me--"

"Anakin, I’m not saying that. Not at all."

"What  _ are _ you saying?"

Obi-Wan took a breath. "You've been given an opportunity--"

"To show what I can do," Anakin argued. "That's what I’m doing. If they don’t like it--"

"They can make it very hard for you to continue," Obi-Wan answered. Anakin scowled. "Anakin. You are the most talented dancer I've ever known." He touched a hand to the younger man's shoulder. "I want the whole world to see you."

Anakin shook his head. "That's just it."

"Hmm?"

"If I just dance their way, no one will see  _ me _ ."

Obi-Wan frowned, and took another breath. "Perhaps if I …. understand the story."

Anakin grinned and turned toward the benches, where the young students were gathered for notes, gesturing for Obi-Wan to come along. "It's a space opera."

"A … what?"

Ahsoka appeared at his elbow. "The skateboards are fighter jets," she explained. "It starts with a big space battle and then Skyguy and I fight off an army of robots."

Obi-Wan stared at her.

"Cool, huh?" Cody chimed in from his perch on the bench. 

Obi-Wan blinked. “Why robots?”

“That’s what I said!” Boba’s hair shot out in all directions as he leapt up in excitement that an adult agreed with him. “I think there should be a  _ villain _ . I want to play him.”

"And I told you," Anakin swatted at Boba playfully. "The villain is war."

"Nobody’s gonna get that from robots!" the boy argued, and the other five all started talking at once. 

"It’s an ongoing discussion," Ahsoka explained to Obi-Wan as Anakin and Threepio tried to calm the boys. 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?" he asked her. 

"I think something  _ is _ missing, but I'm not sure it needs to be a villain. More like…" She scrunched her nose. "Stakes."

"Stakes?"

"Like," she pulled her lips in over her mouth. "Why is there a war? Why are we fighting it? So like it  _ could _ be a really bad guy we gotta like, take down or whatever." She shrugged. "But it could also be like, someone we need to save."

Obi-Wan was impressed. "Have you told Anakin?"

She bit her lip. "Not exactly?"

"Do," he told her, with an encouraging smile. "He'll listen."  
  


* * *

 

She'd decided Obi-Wan was right. Anakin had said they were partners in this, he'd listen to her ideas. And the bus home from the skatepark was the perfect opportunity. Artoo and Threepio were watching the kids, and Obi-Wan put distance between them -- she imagined to encourage her to speak up. So. Here goes nothing. "Master Skywalker?"

Anakin raised an eyebrow at his young partner. She hadn't called him Master since the second day or so. "What is it?"

"Well…I was speaking with Master Kenobi and I think..." She took a breath. "I think Boba's right. Not about the villain or the robots, but. About something missing from the story." She explained about the stakes. 

Anakin nodded. "Okay, that's a good point. Did you want to add another battle? Maybe one of us is injured…" His eyes flashed as his mind started filling with ideas. "Or maybe we  _ should _ add a villain, but not a real villain, no, somebody else caught up in the war." Truth be told, Anakin was pretty set on war being the ultimate enemy. But he understood the desire for a personal stake.  "And it's someone we know. A friend. Or brother!"

"That would work," Ahsoka was all but bouncing in her seat she was so excited he not only listened, he agreed, and was working with her to build their story. "I had another idea," she added, shy (but also still bouncy). Anakin nodded at her to tell it. "How 'bout a romance?"

Anakin frowned. Ahsoka had rapidly become one of his closest friends -- she understood him better than most -- but he'd chosen to cast them as comrades and it would be weird to try and work in a romance now. Especially with the age difference. And  _ especially _ especially if there were any feelings leaning that way outside of the story. He hadn't gotten that impression from Ahsoka at all, but he wasn't really that experienced with crushes or friends or relationships or, well, people. He was pretty sure he was head over heels in absolute true love with Padmé but because he'd literally never felt anything like what he felt for her, not because he actually had any idea what 'love' is. 

"I don't know…"

Ahsoka blanched. "Not between us!" Her expression waffled between laughter and something close to horrified, and Anakin wanted to melt into the floor. "I mean. I really like our… I like the way it is."

"Me too," Anakin smiled. "So, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, what if the robots are protecting a princess? She was captured--"

"Or!" Anakin’s eyes lit up. "She's on the other side and it's a forbidden love."

"Like _Romeo and Juliet_?"

"Yes. No!" He grabbed Ahsoka's arm in excitement. "She's not a princess, she's the Queen. And she loves the knight but she also loves her kingdom -- queendom?"

"It should probably be a planet," Ahsoka said, wisely. 

Anakin nodded. "And she doesn't want it to be destroyed."

"What are they gonna do?"

He pursed his lips. "I don't know, I have to think about it."

Ahsoka glanced outside the window as they pulled up to the Academy. "I know who should dance the queen."

Anakin followed her gaze to find Padmé, seated under a tree, reading quietly. He met Ahsoka's eyes. "We're keeping our relationship low key."

Ahsoka shot him a look of bemusement. She'd only known Anakin for a few weeks but she was pretty sure he’d never done anything low key in his entire life. "Well, this would be a good way to explain all your private practices," she said with a mischievous smile.

"Shut up." He swatted her, affectionately, as they gathered their things and exited the bus. 

Anakin gave a few instructions to the boys before sending them off until the next day, thanked Threepio, and made plans to meet Artoo in the morning. Ahsoka thanked Obi-Wan for his advice and boasted their showcase was going to be the Best Ever. Padmé waited until the crowd had thinned before approaching the two. 

"So...what did Obi-Wan think?" Anakin had been tied up in knots the night before, he was so nervous about his mentor's visit to practice. 

"He worries it's too innovative," he answered, ruefully. 

"How can something be  _ too _ innovative?"

Anakin shrugged. 

"So, we're adding a classic!" Ahsoka grabbed Anakin's and Padmé's hands and clasped them together. “A pas de deux."

Padmé met Anakin's twinkling eyes above their hands. His smile was a kiss. "May I have this dance?"


	5. Fifth Position

Padmé drew her hands through his hair and down his shoulders with gentle grace, coming to rest at his heart as the last notes played and the light cut out.

Anakin dropped his hands in frustration. "Something is still missing.”

Padmé drew back with a sigh. The showcase was just over a week away, and they were on stage for a tech run that had drawn out nearly an hour past their scheduled time. She was tired, and thirsty, and impatient to leave the spotlight, but Anakin was dissatisfied with absolutely everything.

"The story isn't getting across."

Padmé tugged her sweater over her hands. "Maybe this is just part of the story,” she murmured.

Anakin frowned but before he could reply Ahsoka appeared at his elbow. "We need to clear out.” The next group of dancers were clustered upstage, waiting. Anakin’s dance had three times the light and sound cues of any other piece but impatience was catching.

"Fine, but I want to go over it again in the studio."

"Ani, we need a break." Padmé ran a hand down his arm, tight with tension.

He frowned. "Just one more time.” His eyes met hers, pleading. “Please?”

Padmé sighed, and nodded acquiescence. Anakin grinned and ran off the stage, pulling her hand to follow. "Come on, Snips, Artoo,” he called as he walked with purpose through the underground tunnels to their assigned rehearsal studio.

"I want a cupcake," Artoo replied as the three women walked after him with somewhat less enthusiasm.

"Work first."

" _Then_ cake?" she asked at the door. Anakin rolled his eyes.

"He means yes," Ahsoka intervened and playfully pushed Artoo into the room.

"Absolutely," Anakin agreed.

* * *

Padmé pivoted, her right leg raised behind her and pushed against Anakin’s chest. Smiling widely she turned again to step step leap and -- but as she spun back, raising her leg forward, her foot slipped and she fell out of the turn and down to the ground.

"Aaargh, turn it off," Anakin ordered as he stepped out of position. Artoo cut the music with a sigh as Ahsoka ran to give Padmé a hand.

"You okay?"

Anakin turned at the question, concern coloring his eyes, but at Padmé’s nod their hardness returned. "You can take five,” he muttered, the implication they would then return to practice clear. Padme and Ahsoka stared at him with identical expressions of disbelief.

"She needs a rest," argued Ahsoka. “We all do."

"We need work," countered Anakin.

"We need a break!" Ahsoka persisted. “We’re getting worse!"

"And _quitting_ is going to fix that?" shouted Anakin.

"No one wants to quit," Padmé interrupted, her voice soft in an attempt to defuse the situation. “But I do want a rest. And a stretch.”

"A third of ballet injuries happen in the week before a show," Artoo added.

Anakin visibly trembled with a deadly cocktail of emotion. Pained eyes locked on Padmé. "I would never hurt you…!”

"I know," she assured him. “Let’s go for a ride. Or get dinner, all together.”

He shook his head. "You go. I need to work.”

"Come on, Skyguy--" Ahsoka reached out but Anakin slapped her hand away and turned to glare at the wall of mirrors.

"Just go!"

Artoo spun immediately, indignation etched on her face, and pulled a reluctant Ahsoka away with her. Padmé pressed his hand in support before following. 

Anakin watched them leave in the mirror. The face that stared back at him was drawn and dark. He hadn’t been sleeping well, plagued by nightmares of failure ranging from the ridiculous (a sudden volcanic eruption splitting the stage in two, ripping Padmé out of his arms just as he turns to lift her) to the all too plausible (Yoda kicking him out, leaving him to fend for himself in the sand). And awake he was constantly on edge. Artoo's comment hit home because he knew all about injury rates, and Padmé, or Ahsoka, or one of the boys, being hurt was the worst of his disturbingly plausible nightmares, asleep or awake.

_You have to be stronger_ , he told his reflection. He'd put his whole self into this dance and it was still lacking. His whole self wasn't enough. Would never -- be -- enough. A storm of emotions flooded his face. Anger, fear, resentment, frustration, loneliness, despair, desperation. With a guttural cry he pulled back and punched the reflection. His wild eyes grew wide in the mirror for a split second before it shattered into pieces. Anakin jumped back, reflexively, and the shards fell to the floor before him with a strangely melodious crash.  

* * *

 

"Anakin?"

Obi-Wan peered into the dim room. Anakin stood at the barre running through exercises in methodical silence. The broken glass had been cleared away, one blank panel in the mirror wall the only evidence of the incident. That and Anakin's bandaged hand.  

"Are you alright?"

Sighing, Anakin stopped his exercises. "You heard what happened.” Probably the whole school had. The nurse and custodian who'd helped him didn't seem the type to gossip but it was a small community, all of them currently stressed out. . . His heart felt tight in his chest as he imagined his friends' reaction. They must be so disappointed.

"I'm worried about you." Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder in tentative support.  "Perhaps, you need to take a step back, it's just one performance --” Anakin grunted in annoyed disbelief and turned to storm off. "Anakin --"

He pushed Obi-Wan's hand away. "For months, _years_ , you've told me _everything_ depends on this performance and now you're angry with me for taking it seriously?"

"I never said --" Obi-Wan sputtered. “I never meant --” He shook his head, disturbed. “I'm not angry. I'm worried."

"You don't think I can do it," Anakin accused.

"What? No, of course I --" Obi-Wan reached out to clasp his shoulders with both hands. “Anakin, I have always believed in your potential."

"What about me?"

"...What?"

Anakin's eyes flickered with the depth of his hurt. "I want you to believe in _me_."

Obi-Wan's hands tightened on his shoulders. "I do. Of course I do."

Anakin's shoulders collapsed as his anger dissipated into weariness. "There’s no of course about it."

* * *

He found Artoo in one of the smaller workshops, making adjustments to a ramp. In the past weeks they'd spent many hours together, working on their set. Anakin was more mechanically inclined than his peers and they'd developed a great rapport. But now she greeted him with wary eyes.

"What's that?" she asked of the small box he held out to her.

"A peace offering." Artoo glanced through the sheer top to find a brightly colored cupcake. “It comes with an apology."

She crossed her arms. "I'm listening."

Anakin placed the box carefully on the worktable "I'm sorry. I couldn't do any of this without you."

"True."

He frowned. "Artoo, I mean it. No one else would have even tried."

Artoo shook her head. Silly boy didn't understand the power of his personality. "Look, just.” She bit her lip, raised her eyes to find him braced for rejection. “Don't shut us out." She understood the obsessive tinkering and practicing, the shouting and the smashing, were all symptoms of a desperate need to control his narrative, on stage and off. “We're all on the same team."

"I don't deserve you."

"True!" Artoo said again. “But you’ve got us.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled at his shaking relief when he returned the hug.

* * *

 

Ahsoka glanced up at the shadow that fell across her bench. "I hear you’re on an apology tour."

A familiar self-consciousness flashed across his face. "Something like that."

She slid to the right so he could sit beside her. They sat in awkward silence a long moment before turning to speak, both at once.

 

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay-"

 

They traded a smile.

"It's not okay, Snips," Anakin answered. He pulled his lips in over his teeth. “Sometimes I just get so angry."

Ahsoka shrugged. "Me too.” She raised an eyebrow at his frown. “Did you think you have the monopoly on anger?” She shook her head at his surprise, her brightly colored braids swinging. They'd clicked right away because neither really fit into the Academy’s definition of a proper dancer. Or person, most likely. “I know it's ‘unbecoming’ in a ballerina or whatever but it’s normal. Working with you ...helps. I thought working with me did, too."

"It did," Anakin assured her. “It does.” He glanced away. “The past few months, with you, and Padmé, Artoo, and the kids -- I've felt so--" Safe? Free? Grounded? He couldn't find the word. "-- I’m scared to lose it. To lose ...you."

"You won't." Ahsoka reached over to force him to meet her eyes. “It's not a real war, Anakin, it's a story." He made a face, started to answer he obviously knew that, but she had more to say. "If we fall on our face, if nobody gets it, if Coruscant says no…. If you decided to never dance again, you'll still have me."

Anakin trembled at the simple sincerity of her promise. "I'm pretty messed up, huh?” He tried to keep his voice light, but did not entirely succeed.

She shrugged, again. "Me too.” Ahsoka grinned as Anakin's laughter filled the air.

* * *

Padmé blinked as she stepped outside. Sundown was close, but it was still far brighter than backstage. As her eyes adjusted she realized Anakin was waiting, feet turned out with the nonchalance of a star, but there was none of that confidence in his expression. She waited, quietly, for him to speak. But at meeting her eyes, wide with compassion and encouragement, he burst into tears. Padmé ran and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry," he said, when she'd gotten him to the cafe and forced him to drink a hot chocolate. _Chocolate heals all wounds_ , her mother said, and it may be silly, but she expected Anakin didn't have much chocolate -- or silly -- in his past. “I just...it needs to be perfect."

"Nothing is perfect."

"I should be. I'm supposed to be…"  _Special._ He looked away, his shoulders tightening again, with frustration.

Padmé touched his hand across the table. "I’m worried about you."

Like Obi-Wan, he thought. Anakin met her eyes, still encouraging, but crowded with concern. He closed his hand over hers. "I don’t want you to worry."

She took a sip of her own hot chocolate. "What _do_ you want?"

He frowned. Had anyone ever asked him that? Maybe his mother, but he doesn't remember. Qui-Gon didn't. Nor any of the masters on the council. Obi-Wan and Plo Koon acted as if they already knew. None of them were malevolent, and none of them were necessarily wrong in what they chose for him. But... Now he didn't know what to answer. Didn't know how.

* * *

"Young Master Skywalker, I'm looking forward to your piece in the showcase." Anakin glanced down to the old master. Yoda was less than half his size and older than dirt, but his presence filled the entire hall. “I've heard many things."

Anakin felt himself pale. The grand master of the academy had intimidated him since their first meeting, when he was a barefoot nine year old, dirty and grieving. Yoda hadn't wanted to take in an undisciplined stray but Qui-Gon convinced him it was in the school's best interest. Anakin had never forgotten how he felt that first day. Yoda could make him feel that small and worthless again with the slightest look.

"Anakin?" Threepio handed him a clipboard. “I need you to sign off for the program.” He scanned the list of names and read through the synopsis one last time. It still wasn't quite right, but the book was going to print, the showcase was days away. It would have to do.

He initialed the page and started to pass it back to the waiting stage manager when an idea struck. "There's one change.” He scribbled two words after the title.

"'Episode Two'?" Threepio asked.

Anakin nodded. "To make it clear,” he explained with a wolfish grin. “This is just part of the story."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [this dance](https://youtu.be/QYWxQTI2zAU) as inspiration for Anakin and Padmé's pas de deux.


	6. Jeté

Anakin stood in the middle of the courtyard, watching the sun dip behind the trees. It was crowded with not only dancers and instructors, but family, friends, and recruiters, arriving for tomorrow’s showcase. It had been a long week. As the performance approached, Anakin grew increasingly anxious. There hadn’t been any more outbursts or broken mirrors, but the tension never quite left his shoulders.

 _One more day_ , he told himself. This time tomorrow, he would be backstage, waiting for the curtain to rise. In little over a day, everything would be settled, one way or another.

"Artoo to Ahsoka. Come in Ahsoka." No response. "Hellooooooo Ahsoka!" She waved a hand in front of the girl's eyes. Still nothing. Artoo sighed and thwacked Ahsoka's shoulders. "Hey!"

"Huh?" Ahsoka blinked; Artoo's round face -- and exasperated expression -- came into focus. "Oh. Sorry."

Artoo shook her head. "Your mind is always in the stars these days.

"I'm worried about Anakin."

"I know. Me too." She dropped beside her friend. "But you know who else I'm worried about?"

Ahsoka chewed her lip. "Padmé?"

Artoo rolled her eyes. "You!"

"I'm fine," Ahsoka protested. "I promise." Artoo pursed her lips. "I am! Stop looking at me like that."

Artoo cocked her head. "How would you like me to look at you?"

Ahsoka frowned. "Not like that." She felt her cheeks burning under Artoo's scrutiny.

"Ugh." Artoo fell back into the grass, breaking their connection. Ahsoka let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "You know, you're just like Anakin."

"What do you mean?"

Artoo glanced up to meet Ahsoka's eyes. "I mean if you get to worry about him, I get to worry about you."

"I _don't_ get to worry about him," Ahsoka argued. Anakin was determined to show no fear and lately the result was, well, scary. "That's _why_ I'm so ----" She broke off the thought at Artoo's raised eyebrow. "...Oh." She was pushing Artoo away exactly as Anakin was pushing her away.

"Oh!"

Ahsoka felt herself blushing again. "Sorry."

"You're forgiven. On one condition."

"What's that?"

Artoo jumped up, pulling Ahsoka along with her. "I want ice cream."

"Padmé!"

She turned at the voice. "Pooja!" Padmé rushed over to the little girl and her sister and swept them into a hug. Anakin followed more slowly. "Sola!" Padmé stood to embrace the girls' mother, too. "When did you arrive?"

"Just now. Darred's parking."

Anakin waved at Pooja staring up at him from behind her mother's knee.

"Are mom and dad with you?"

"They're at the hotel. But looking forward to dinner?" Padmé nodded she'd be joining them. "Good." Sola turned her attention to Anakin. "Hello."

"Oh!" Padme blushed. "Anakin, this is my sister Sola."

Anakin bowed his head, shyly. "Pleased to meet you."

"Anakin is my dance partner and-"

"I know who he is," Sola interrupted with an almost aggressive enthusiasm. "And I've never been so happy to meet someone! Padmé's never even _mentioned_ a boyfriend to us before now."

Flustered, Anakin glanced at Padmé. He had no experience with family, and didn't want to embarrass her. But her smile calmed and encouraged him. "I'm so glad you could come to the show."

"We can't wait!" She waved behind them to her approaching husband. "Do we have time to see the campus before dinner?" She turned back to Anakin. "You're coming right?"

Anakin glanced at Padmé again. He was equal parts excited and terrified to have dinner with her family.

"It's up to you," Padme answered his silent query.

"Come!" Sola encouraged.

Anakin nodded. "Thank you."

"Wonderful! Now, show us around," Sola commanded, setting off in Darred's direction, her older daughter in tow. Padmé followed, describing the surrounding buildings as they passed. Pooja waited next to Anakin and held her hand out when he looked down to her. Grinning he grasped it and allowed the little girl to pull him after her mother and aunt.

* * *

"Perfect," Artoo cooed at the sundae placed in front of her. It was twice the size of Ahsoka's and came with a small bowl of extra cherries on the side. Ahsoka watched her slowly curve the spoon around the rim of the glass before scooping up a spoonful of double chocolate and hot fudge. It was like a ritual, one Ahsoka had witnessed before, though usually Anakin, or Padmé, or Anakin and Padmé, were with them.

"Artoo?"

"Yeah?"

Ahsoka swallowed, though she hadn't touched her sundae yet. "Is this a date?"

Artoo glanced over the rim of the bowl. "Do you want it to be a date?"

"Do _you_ want it to be a date?"

"I asked first."

Ahsoka pulled her lips in over her teeth. "Yes?" she squeaked.

Artoo scrunched her nose. "You don't sound very convincing."

Ahsoka blushed and looked at her hands. Her instinct was to apologize but would that be even more of an insult? Oh, why hadn't she kept her mouth shut! Now everything was awkward. Like this growing silence. That was the most awkward thing ever. She glanced up to find Artoo still looking at her, chewing on a cherry stem. Okay _that_ was the most awkward thing ever.

"Why'd you ask?"

Ahsoka blinked. "Huh?"

"Why did you ask if this is a date?"

Ahsoka shrugged. "I've never been on one." Honesty is the best policy when everything is already embarrassing.

Awkward silence grew again as Artoo watched Ahsoka and Ahsoka tried to figure what the least terrible exit strategy might be. She'd just about decided on going to the bathroom and sneaking out through a window when Artoo dropped one of her extra cherries on top of Ahsoka's still untouched ice cream sundae.

"Before," she said, conversationally, and started to swirl her own ice cream again.

"Huh?"

"You've never been on one _before_."

Ahsoka's eyes grew wide and a grin took over her face as she realized what Artoo was saying. She was elated, and relieved, for about fourteen seconds before the awkward returned. But it was the _best_ kind of awkward.

* * *

"Padmé!" Anakin woke in a sweat, his heart racing. The nightmares had become commonplace, but no less disturbing. He sat up, exhausted, anxious, and angry. It had been a good day -- a great final run through, and dinner with the Naberries had gone as well as he could imagine.

Maybe that was the problem. It was _too_ good, too much like something normal. Now, he couldn't shake the feeling he's going to lose everything. He needed to see Padmé. It was irrational, but he needed to see her. Hold her. To know the nightmares weren't real.

He glanced at the clock, and took a chance she was still awake. _Padme?_ he texted. After a moment, she replied he should be sleeping. He smiled, picturing her reading in bed. Unlike him, she loved school as much as she loved dancing.

_I miss you._

_Me, too. But tomorrow is a very important day, you need sleep!!_

_I know._ He started typing more but couldn’t figure out what to say. Type, delete, type, delete. He needed to see her.

 _Did you have another nightmare?_ she asked, intuitively understanding the three dots of indecision that appeared on her screen.

 _Yes._ He bit his lip. _I want to see you._

 _It’s after curfew._ The Academy had strict rules.

_Please?_

Now the three dots taunted him, until finally they were replaced by two words. _Be careful._

Anakin stood, dressed quickly, and made his way quietly to the Girls side of the dormitory.

"Going somewhere?"

Anakin froze at the question. He swallowed once and turned to stammer, "Oh. Uh. No."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. Anakin deflated.

"I can't sleep," he explained.

"I understand."

Anakin looked at the ground, but his expression made it clear he did not believe Obi-Wan understood any part of it. Obi-Wan pulled out his phone, touched the screen a few times and held it out to his student. Anakin glanced at the screen: a photo of Obi-Wan, younger than he'd been when they met, and a young woman about the same age. Frowning, he accepted the phone to look closer.

They were in a ballet pose, but it was a sloppy execution, entirely unlike his mentor, who critiqued his every toe point and finger position mercilessly. And they were laughing, so brightly, so clearly, Anakin could almost hear it.

"Who is she?"

"Her name is Satine. She was my partner in school. For _my_ showcase," Obi-Wan's voice grew wistful as he spoke. "She was magnificent, far more talented than me. She deserved better."

Anakin shrugged. "She looks happy."

Obi-Wan smiled. "We were in love."

Anakin almost dropped the phone. He stared, wide eyed and open mouthed, at his teacher.

"Don't look so shocked."

"Sorry. I just. Never imagined you…"

Obi-Wan waved hand behind him. "Sneaking into the girls dormitory in the middle of the night?"

"Well. Yeah." He frowned at the photo, trying to reconcile the Obi-Wan in the image with the single-minded task master who'd taught him. "What happened?"

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "After our showcase we were both invited to join the Company. But before the season began, there was an accident. Satine was hit by a car--"

Anakin's eyes went wide. "She _died_?"

"No." Anakin was visibly relieved. "But her leg was crushed. It never fully healed."

"She couldn't dance," Anakin extrapolated in a whisper.

Obi-Wan nodded. "She left, I stayed."

Anakin frowned. "Why? Why didn't you go with her?"

"I would have if she'd asked.” He looked away, remembering. Instead, she'd told him to stay, to dance for her. They'd promised to keep in touch but it proved too painful for her… and he didn't know how to fix it. He'd grown angry, and it made everything worse. "I stayed, but I was unfocused. I was never as good as Satine had been, as you are, and without her…" He shook his head. "I let my anger and my loss get in the way. I wanted better for you. That's why I pushed you so hard, why I was worried about Padmé, about your divided attention."

Anakin bristled. "I'm not _you_."

"No, you're not." Obi-Wan sighed. Their inability to communicate was familiar. He still didn't know how to fix it. But he must _try_.  "The Company is -- conservative. Displays of… attachment… are frowned upon."

"I _know_ ," Anakin kicked at the floor, prepared to hear yet another lecture. Obi-Wan shook his head, took the phone out of Anakin's hand, swiped a few times and replaced it. Anakin glanced down. This time the photo was of him, age ten, when he'd been at the Academy for maybe six months. He flicked to find another, a year or so later. He'd had a truly terrible haircut at the time. Another flick, another picture.

"I wanted better for you," Obi-Wan started again. "But I went about it in the wrong way. I should have explained all this years ago. I should have been honest about my own mistakes."

Anakin stopped at the most recent photo uploaded to the app, a picture of himself and Padmé, not unlike the one of Obi-Wan and Satine. "Was it really a mistake to love her?"

Obi-Wan didn't answer.

"Where is she, now?"

"Teaching." Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, thoughtfully. "For Mandalore." Anakin nodded, he knew the Company. "I've seen her, now and then, at conferences and performances."

"And?"

"And it was a long time ago." He met Anakin's eyes, twinkling with delight. He was probably plotting something, but after the weeks of anxiety, it was a soothing image. "Go on now, Padmé's waiting."

Anakin grinned, turned, and started off the way he'd been headed -- but he stopped after a few steps and ran back. "Thank you." His voice was low and raw, and he wanted to say more, but he didn't know the words. But Obi-Wan's smile was clear. He understood.

"Ani! I was so worried." It had been half an hour since she'd agreed he should come.

"I'm sorry. I was talking to Obi-Wan."

Padmé frowned. "Is everything alright?"

Anakin nodded. "Yes. I think it really is."

She gave him a funny look, but didn't press. She trusted he would tell her anything she needed to know, when he was ready, and they both needed sleep now. "Come to bed."

Hours later, Anakin woke still wrapped around Padmé's smaller frame. It was the day of the Academy showcase, the performance that could define his life, but he was calmer than he'd been since production started. He'd slept soundly, free of nightmares, and felt well rested for the first time in weeks.

Padmé stirred in his arms. "Good morning," she said, peering up at him with sleepy eyes.

"Good morning!" he echoed, and leaned down to brush her lips. "I could get used to this."

She smiled in agreement. After today, whatever happened, they would have options. "How do you feel?"

He held her gaze a long moment before breaking into a bright smile. "Ready."

* * *

Twenty minutes before the showcase was scheduled to begin, Anakin stood in the wings watching the auditorium fill. The first ten rows of the orchestra, as well as the front of the balcony and boxes, were all reserved for leaders and recruiters of the various well-known ballet companies. He recognized quite a few, from Coruscant, Alderaan, Corellia -- and Mandalore.

"She's here," he murmured to Obi-Wan, beside him.

"Yes, Anakin, I can see that." He was already regretting having told the story.

"You should invite her to dinner."

"Invite who to dinner?" Ahsoka asked at Anakin’s elbow.

"No, Anakin."

"Drinks. Casual. We can all go."

 _"No_ , Anakin."

"Okay, I’ll invite her."

"Invite who?!"

"His girlfriend," Anakin answered his trainee.

"She's not my--"

"Obi-Wan has a girlfriend?!"

Obi-Wan glared at them both. "Why is this so shocking?"

Ahsoka blanched. "It's not! It's great," she assured him with a smile. "When do we get to meet her?"

"Meet who?" Padmé asked as she and Artoo joined the trio in the wings.

"Obi-Wan's girlfriend,” explained Ahsoka.

"Satine," Anakin added, pointing her out to Padmé and the others. "We're going to have dinner with her."

"No, we are n-"

"She's pretty," Ahsoka commented.

Artoo nodded agreement. "Well, I guess I was half right."

Obi-Wan frowned. "About what?"

"Your secret relationship."

"I am not in --!" Obi-Wan realized he was shouting, and gaining even more attention. He lowered his voice, but remained adamant. "I am not," he locked eyes with Anakin, "at present," then Padmé, "in any kind of relationship," Ahsoka, "secret or otherwise," and finally Artoo. She made a popping noise.

"That guy from the Alderaan Company…"

Obi-Wan's eyes went wide. "Is _married_!" Artoo shrugged. Obi-Wan sighed and turned back to Anakin. "And Satine -- It was a long time ago."

"But it doesn't have to be."

"Five minutes to places!" Threepio called, and everyone turned their attention to the showcase. Anakin's piece was scheduled to open the second act, but they were all participating in various class and group dances throughout.

Artoo gave Anakin, Padmé, and Ahsoka a hug before making her way to the tech booth. The hug for Ahsoka was slightly tighter, and Anakin noticed his student blushing. Anakin raised an eyebrow in her direction, and the blush deepened, but she was grinning. Anakin and Padmé shared a smile, and the girls left to take their places for the opening.

"Anakin."

He turned to meet Obi-Wan's eyes.

"I'm proud of you."

Anakin smiled, and nodded acceptance. Obi-Wan left to take his seat in the audience. Anakin joined his class of younglings preparing to start.

"Master Skywalker? How many people are here?"

Anakin smiled down at his student. "It's a full house."

Cody bit his lip, scared, but also scared to say so. Anakin knelt to meet his eyes directly.

"Don't dance for them, Cody." He tapped the boy's chest, above his heart. "Dance for you."

Cody nodded and impulsively threw his arms around Anakin's shoulders. As the lights lowered and the audience applauded the arrival of the conductor, Anakin closed his arms around the child for a quick hug.

The curtain started to rise.


End file.
